See you may think just because I work for you that you own me like you have all those other bimbo's believing but since I make you more money than any of them... When that last patron leaves for the night Lance... You are MINE!

.

Lance Deacon had no idea who he hired when when Gabriella Lane applied for the job of bartender. In four nights a week she pulls in more money for his little personal playden of a dive bar than three servers and the other bartender combined do in a whole week. After the "trial period" he had called her to his office to explain to her just what it meant to work in his bar his world. Simply put you work for him he owns you... And he will enjoy what he owns however he wants whenever he wants.

Gabriella's expression didn't change. Most of the girls get a look of horror or disgust till they see him and what he has to offer. Not Gabriella she just stood there staring through him no fear no horror no disgust no interest... Simply nothing yet she saw more than anyone else. He thought it a challenge as be dropped his jeans kicking them off as he stalked over to her.

That is when things went wildly different. Her eyes sparked with a darkness and power he barely registered before she literally had him by the balls and she finally spoke in a cold emotionless tone that he knew was lethally serious.

I bring this club more money than any bimbo you have out there willing to believe this being owned bullshit. So Lance here is how things will be. From the moment the last patron of this dive pours themselves out the front door... You are MINE! Is that clear? This... Is Mine. During business hours you want those dumb bimbos thinking you own them fine. And hey I might humor you and one in here on occasion during work hours... If I do. I call the shots... Is that clear?

A sudden squeeze and Lance knew he was screwed and quickly agreed just to get her to loosen her grip but she didn't and in a strange way he was glad. This cold commanding woman had more power than he could have imagined and now it seemed he was the one owned. He had no idea what that would mean and again in a strange way that was very powerful.

-----------------------------------------

Gabriella Lane grew up fast... At least after her father and step brother were killed. Her mom... If you could call her a mom. Didn't moms give even a remote rats ass about their child's well being health safety and education. Her father had been a cop which her mother hated completely. He was a cop when they met if she hated his job why did she even date him much less marry him and have a family? To say the least the selfish bitch who miraculously carried her for 12 hours shy of nine months made little to no sense. She would always bring up the story that she just had to be born early and ruin her time at some concert for some band that was more drugs than music. Her brother's friends stepped up as brothers to her but could do nothing about her mother beyond a roof over her head when she ran away. It was hanging with them she learned to fight and "hunt" as their "uncle" called it. She knew they were random mob muscle and her beauty and innocent smile helped her get in close to help lure out their targets. It also gained her more attention from every slimy bum her mother brought home from the bar. Another strike against her with the bitch... The fact that even some of the lowest slime of the earth would rather fuck her daughter then her. She was 17 when she realized she could claim power over those that tried to wield power over her. She busted the nose lips and jaw of her mothers latest meal ticket when he tried to rape her right in front of her drunk mother who didn't do anything but sit there and cuss her for him picking her instead. Didn't try to protect her and then when she defended herself she kicked her own daughter out and cradled the filth that had just tried to rape her own flesh and blood. So she packed her bags and took off. Living with her brothers honing her own new found power to dominate and destroy. The destroying got old so after a few years she found herself packing her bags and taking off to have a little fun in the world without always that fun leading to the hit... The kill... The contract. Now at 28 she found herself a "vigilante" of sorts. Turning abusive males into submissive playthings. Most of the time banding them back over to any of their victims who wanted a pet male. She was also getting tired of that. Not the breaking of the arrogant male but always releasing them to someone else. She wanted a plaything of her own. Or maybe she just wanted a place to call home

She found herself almost broke in some decent sized town who knows where. Nothing she wasn't used to so she found a place. Cheap room and board living in a little apartment over the top of some middle eastern market. Some elderly couple ran it with their grand kids. The oldest was maybe 5 and a constant talker. She wanted to know about her tats and where she was from and why her eyes looked so cold and sparkly. Her little brother didn't quite talk he just expected everyone to pick him up. Sweet enough little ankle biter he gave her a hug and kiss when she finally picked him up. The old woman clearly ran the show as she looked to her husband and told him they were going to be feeding her ateast once a day. He just nodded and commented that the kids were not afraid of her he was fine with whatever she decided.

--------
I couldn't take much more of this happy family stuff. Felt like I was in some alien movie or something. I finally got a word in edge wise and asked if they had a paper so I could find work no matter how nice they were I was nearly broke. So they handed me a paper and I vanished from Norman Rockwell world with accents and up to my room.finally found an add that I could handle... Bartender.

So I went downstairs and got a map of the town and went looking for this bar... Jackpot... it was a dive just like I liked. Not too many cheery chatty folks and no tourists. So I walked in and looked around. Dark some crappy cover band and a jukebox that looked like it fell out of some sixties biker movie and pool tables. I was home.

Some puny little redhead walked over.

Hi beer or whiskey?

Bourbon straight and I am here to talk to a Lance Deacon about a bartending job. Saw the add used to bartend in a place about like this in Philly.

The knob turned, and the door opened only enough for a little red haired head to squeeze through. "Lance, there's somebody here to see you."

Lance swore under his breath. He hated being interrupted, but still, he was a businessman, and if it'd have been an employee thing, said employee's name would have been used, so it wasn't somebody who worked for him.

"Tell 'em I'll holler for 'em when I'm ready."

The redhead nodded, then silently escaped behind the door once again.

Lance turned to the matter this "visitor" had interrupted.

"Goddamn it, Sunshine, you were short again on your drawer last night. Thirty-seven-fifty-two, to be exact. Last week, it was twenty-two-twelve. Week before that, you were over by nine-and-a-quarter. What the fuck's gotten into you?"

The subject of Lance's ire was not named "Sunshine." It was Cheryl. Sunshine was a name Lance had given her when he hired her. All the employees had nicknames they had to use while working.

Cheryl cowered against the wall, as far from Lance as she could get.

"I'm sorry," she peeped. "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen again?" Lance laughed mirthlessly. "That's what you said last time. And the time before that.

"Fuck, girl, what the hell am I going to do with you? I can't have the books not balancing. Jesus."

He rubbed his face with both hands and thought a moment, exasperated.

"I should fire your ass," he muttered, to the girl's horror, "but you've got the best rack of any woman here.

"Tell you what. I'm gonna get you out from behind the bar for a while. For the next two weeks, all you're going to be doing is running a broom, a mop, and cleaning the toilets and the dumpster and shit out back. You can be a fucking charwoman for a while, while you figure out how to keep your fucking drawer balanced. Got it?"

The girl stared at the floor. Lance couldn't tell if she was relieved for not being fired, but he knew she didn't like the detail he'd assigned her. Lance was right, though, the little blond with the bobbed hair did have a fucking gravity defying set of tits, which seemed way out of proportion for her petite frame.

After several beats, when Cheryl didn't say anything, Lance finally snapped, "Well, slut? Aren't you going to thank me for not canning your ass? You can thank me while I see who the hell wants to talk to me."

Without saying a word, Cheryl nodded slightly, then shuffled around the corner of Lance's desk. He rolled his chair out so she could tuck herself in the space between the privacy panel and where Lance's chair would be when he moved back in to position.

Cheryl unzipped Lance's jeans, pulled them partway down, and released his big, thick cock. He moved his chair back so whoever had come to visit couldn't see what was happening, and called out, "Come on in."

Lance expected the person who walked through the door to be some beer distribution rep or some such thing, some beer-bellied, balding guy with a pitch he didn't want to have to sit through. When this hotter than hot thing sashayed through the door, all big eyes and lip biting, he almost told her she was in the wrong part of town.

Still, she mentioned the ad in the paper about a bartender, and he remembered putting the ad in when the last bartender walked out after he'd brought her in for a "conference," and she left with a gaping asshole and a load of Lance's cum dripping from it.

Lance wasn't sure how it happened. Seemed every girl came through the door looking for work with him ended up submitting to his desires. Once they had a look and taste of his cock, there was no hope for the poor girls. Not only was Lance a handsome man, but he kept himself incredibly fit. He had a six-pack any exercise guru would be envious of, and the overall physique to accompany it. His cock was something a porn star would die to walk around with, and his balls hung right with it. He had an insatiable need for sex, and his employees did what they could to keep it at a dull roar.

"You sure you want to work here? Damn tough part of town. Pretty rough customers sometimes." As he was saying this, he was undressing her, imagining what kind of curves lay so ill-concealed beneath the clothes she had on. Did this one shave, or was she a nature girl? Maybe a landing strip? He could hardly wait to find out.

The girl seemed totally unfazed by Lance's ogling look, and just stated, "I've worked rougher places than this."

Then, just like some innocent young thing - though Lance got the impression there was very little actually innocent about her - she started playing with her hair, and his cock throbbed in Sunshine's mouth under his desk.

"When do I start?" Little-Miss-Innocent almost giggled.

'Nobody's this perky,' Lance said to himself. 'Still, I've gotta see what this bitch looks like naked.'

"Turns out, my bartender for tonight's otherwise occupied," he said with a smirk. Sunshine gave his balls a hard flick with her finger, making Lance jump.

She smiled turned and walked out behind the bar and started working. Soon she had a herd around the bar and kept shooing them away to the tables with the promise they would tip the waitresses well. She easily had more booze flowing for a Tuesday night than this place had seen ever a d tips were coming in to everyone bank. She also seemed to be able to sweet talk down any trouble. By the end of the night when all the patrons were leaving she helped the others clean up and had a pretty hefty booze and supplies order for Lance as did the kitchen. She hadn't missed his quiet warning to someone unseen under his desk. However she was a consummate actress never revealing that she had read this sex hungry slime boss like a book during their brief meeting.

When the new girl smiled, bobbed her head and walked out the door, he realized he hadn't even gotten a name from her. Oh well, it wasn't the first time he'd hired a girl without knowing anything about her aside from the fact that she was eminently fuckable.

As Sunshine continued thanking him, he turned on his computer and opened his camera monitors. Surprisingly, there weren't any of the usual suspects lurking in the corners they usually lurked in. There was usually someone in a supposedly abandoned cubbyhole making out, getting a blowjob, a pussy eaten or being fucked. None of that.

Switching on the monitors for the main room, he saw why the fuck spots were abandoned: everyone was at the bar!

What the fuck? Not that he was complaining, because every glass and every can and bottle was another dollar sign on his bottom line, but he'd never seen anything like it. That new girl could really fucking hustle. Apparently the act she'd given him was really working on the folks out in the bar. And it wasn't only guys: there were plenty of women standing waiting, too. He could tell by body language that she was getting plenty of propositions for sex, but she was turning them all down very skillfully.

Somehow, she was even able to talk down a couple simmering fights. Lance recognized the parties involved and they were hotheads, and happened to get in fights - usually with one another - on at least a weekly basis. Lance had had to crack their heads on more than one occasion.

Finally, Sunshine got him over the hump, and he started to cum. Lance's orgasms were truly something to behold. The old porn star Peter North had nothing on him when it came to cum shots. He hadn't met a woman yet who could catch and swallow an entire cum load.

When he was finally finished, Sunshine crawled out from under his desk, cum all over her face and upper chest. He knew she'd swallowed as much as she could, but more just kept coming. With his cum volume, there was somewhere in the back of Lance's mind that was surprised he hadn't been hit with a paternity suit or something of the sort, at leas somewhere along the line. He wasn't too worried about it. Whether his sperm count wasn't what it should be for making babies or just what, he wasn't in the market for knocking girls up anyhow.

Sunshine stood meekly beside the desk, her cum covered face turned to the floor, waiting to be dismissed.

Any other time, Lance would have sat and admired his handiwork. He loved seeing these sexy girls who worked for him covered in jizz. He always told them it was the mark of a job well done. He didn't even look over at Sunshine when he snapped, "Get out of here. Get cleaning up. Restrooms are probably a mess by now. Don't clean yourself up yet, though. You can wear my cum to remind you why you received it in the first place. Now go."

The girl thanked him almost silently, then turned and hurried from the office.

Lance continued to watch this new girl going to fucking town at the bar, his limp cock dripping remnants of his orgasm on the floor...

Night after night the same thing... Innocent Gabriella playing the crowd like a pro and money pouring in not only to the bar but bank in tips. Enough to easily cover all the staff. Payday she sat at the bar once everything was closed down waiting to be a le to go in the office to get her check. She had to quell all the fights she could which was pretty much all of them when she was there and the innocent act was about to make her want to puke she needed this slime to slip up with her she needed a fight.

Lance kept an eye on the new girl - Gabriella, he finally found out. That whole first night, all she'd been was "the new girl." She stayed till close, and when the night was over, she'd managed to bring in as much in that one night as any previous bartender had in two.

Some nights, he spent much of his time in the shadows out in the bar, just observing. The chirpy, innocent bit was an act, of that he was sure, because there were times when she switched it off, only for a second, to deal with a particularly unruly patron, and every time, no matter how drunk that person was, when they saw the look she gave them, they backed down immediately.

Even when he had one of the other girls in his office, he was watching her, regardless which hole he was fucking on whichever of the employees he was boning at the time.

Payday finally arrived. He could hardly wait to give Gabriella - Babe was her new employee name - the news that she was now a full employee, and the perks that came with it... for him, at least.

Payday was Lance's favorite. Before each girl got her check, they were required to ride his cock to orgasm - theirs, not his. It was the only night of the week he gave a shit whether the girls came or not. Besides, that way, there was one night a week where he got to fuck the whole damn lot. Last girl of the night got the cumshot. He wasn't particular where she took it: cunt, ass, mouth... hell, he didn't care if she wore it home.

Tonight, it was the new girl, Babe, who was going to get his cum. He didn't fuck 'em during their trial period. They weren't real employees yet. There had been times where he'd given prospects their checks and told them to get the fuck out, regardless what they looked like. As well as fuckable, they had to be good for business from more than a looks standpoint.

Finally, the next-to-last girl - Cupcake, Lance called her - climbed off his cock, breathing hard. Cupcake was a gorgeous black girl, and one thing Lance loved to do with her was simply watch his huge white cock moving in and out of her chocolate holes.

While Cupcake got herself decent, Lance handed her her paycheck, grabbing one of her full breasts and giving the nipple a squeeze. Instead of being appalled, the girl's eyes closed and she just stood there and moaned at being treated this way. When he released her nipple, Cupcake just gave a small whimper, as if she wanted to be abused more.

"Move it," Lance said when Cupcake just stood waiting. "Send in the next one" he told her, knowing who was the last of the evening.

Lance sat back down at his desk, his jeans in a pile on the floor, his hard-on brushing the underside of the center drawer...

Gabriella walked in standing there watching him. Curious if he was going to make his move yet. If he did little did he know the surprise waiting for him. She was going to have fun breaking this one in two. A sweet smile tested on her lips as she crossed her arms.

Lance looked over the sexy young thing standing just inside the door. Through the ditzy little smile she had, and the demure way she stood, he saw some kind of tension, as if she was preparing for something.

Still, his cock smelled pussy. He'd had every other girl in the place rocking in his lap already, and yet he wanted more. He'd been waiting for this one. She was a hell of a worker, but that was only half the job description around here.

"I want to congratulate you, Babe," Lance said, leaning back in his chair, being sure to keep his unclothed lower half still hidden beneath the desk. "You've outshone every other bartender who's worked here, male or female, since the place opened. I don't know how you do it, but the bottom line is, you're just what I want in a bartender. Welcome to the family.

"I want to remind you of some shit. I know I told you all this before, but a reminder can't hurt.

"I noticed you're putting all the tips together and distributing them evenly after each shift. That's up to you and the others. You're still declaring them on your taxes.

"You seem damn good at defusing potentially tough situations. There's a bit of steel in you somewhere. It's good to see, especially given the front you put on. Just know, though, if a situation gets to be too much I'm there. There's no bouncer, but I do pretty fucking well in a pinch. I might be a lot of things, but I protect my girls.

"Two things: no drugs, no prostitution. There are cameras everywhere, but even those can't catch everything. You see anybody dealing or using, you report 'em to me, and I'll decide what to do with them. As far as patrons hooking up, that, I can't do anything about, but I won't have anybody, and I mean anybody, turning tricks in my place.

"You already know the shit about your bartender duties, but one thing you might have learned from the other girls: Nobody uses their real name around here. There are probably folks you've told your real name to already, and there's nothing can be done about that, but from here on out, when you're at work, you're 'Babe.'

"Most of the other stuff, you were either told over the course of the week, or you picked up along the way. If you have questions, you know where to find me."

Lance opened the top side drawer and pulled out an envelope. He tapped it on the desk a couple times, deciding whether it was time to reveal her "other duties" aside from the official ones. The idea of this hot slut bobbing on his cock, screaming out an orgasm for her pay finally was too much for him, and he ignored the way Gabriella tensed when he started pushing his chair back from the desk.

"There's one other thing, on top of everything else. All the girls here belong to me. They do what I want, when I want it. I protect them, I pay them for their work, but in return, they do things for me."

With that, he stood up, revealing his incredibly impressive erection, his balls hanging low, nearly the same distance as his cock stood up.

Her face was emotionless. No anger no fear no disgust she didn't even appear impressed as she walked over. Her eyes... Something shifted in them as her hand moved like a viper strike and she gripped the nuts and offered member with a grip that revealed her true power. Her eyes shown with a darkened power as it were and her tone low and lethal as she gripped him tighter than a little thing like her should be able to.

Let's get one thing straight... I bring more money into this club than any of your staff so here's the deal Lance. When the last patron pours themselves out of here for the night...You are MINE!

Her grip tightened with the word mine

This is mine!

You want to keep those bimbos out there believing this owned by you bullshit... That's fine... For now but it is in fact you that is the owned one now.

A lethal grin danced over her lips.

Is that clear... pet? And you ever lay an unwanted hand on me ever you well paid off cops and hidden muscle around here with find you in a pool of your own half dead blood... Got it?

Disbelief, shock, horror, wonder, hunger, delight, these were all reactions he was used to when the ladies got their first look at the package he meant to use on them. Not once had a woman displayed such neutrality. It was surprising and a little unnerving. Still, it was better than the little girl act she'd put on for the rubes the last week.

When Babe started crossing the room, Lance's cock throbbed. For several seconds she merely stood, staring up at him impassively, mere inches from his stiff member.

When her hands shot out and grabbed his cock and balls, he didn't know whether to jump or bend over in pain. The girl had a grip! Fuck almighty, it hurt! Her hand couldn't fully encircle his cock, so the squeeze she had on it would have been painful, but he could have put up with it... at least for a while. However, that vise-like hold on his big nuts sent agony throughout his body.

It went against every fiber of his being, but acquiescence was all he could imagine at that point. The only thing he could think of was to remove the pain in his balls.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Whatever you want. Just let go." He knew she was no match for him physically. He could break her in half without even breaking a sweat. However, no matter how big and tough, a guy's balls are his weakest point, and Gabriella obviously knew that.

Lance didn’t hear whatever bullshit Gabriella hissed into his ear. His concentration was mainly on the hand crushing his balls. That one incredible sensation even overpowered the fact that her other hand was applying just as much pressure to his cock.

He was trying his best not to double over from the pain, but reflex bent him over at least a little, even though it did him no good.

When she snatched the envelope from his hand, he tried to protest, but the flex and twist Gabriella executed on his poor, beleaguered ball sack almost forced a yelp out of him, though he managed - if only barely – to not give her the satisfaction of such a reaction.

When she was finally out of the room, he staggered to his desk, clutching his crotch to minimize further pain by any involuntary movement. He almost sent his desk chair rolling across the floor when he crashed into it, narrowly avoiding ending up on the floor.

For a few minutes he just sat there nursing his aching genitals. After a while, the pain had subsided enough that he could start thinking about what just happened.

From Gabriella’s reaction, it looked like she’d expected more resistance out of him. What she apparently didn’t realize is that grabbing a guy’s balls means: end of negotiation. You want a guy to give you a fight, you can do just about anything else and he’ll give you the battle you’re craving. Attack that one area and he’ll do damn near anything to make the pain go away.

As the pain lessened, anger moved in behind it. “Who the fuck does that bitch think she is?” Lance railed at the empty room. “I should have fucking just reached down and broke her fucking arm. Damn hard to hold onto a guy’s nuts when your arm’s broke.” Even Lance realized such talk was moot after the fact, and especially after having given in. Even in light of the circumstances behind his acquiescence, he felt like a pussy.

As he reached for his jeans so he could lock up and go home, he realized something: as he looked down at the purplish finger prints on his cock, it dawned on him that, through the whole goddamned thing, his hard-on never went away. Grimacing as he tucked his extremely tender genitals into his pants, he was confused and quite disturbed by this realization…

The next day the real Gabriella remained and the male patrons seemed quite attracted to her even more. Including the cop Greg who did the real background checks for Lance of the new hires. He had originally arrived to tell him about the "family" she had listed and her not being the type to call the cops but more likely to call said family. However as he spoke his eyes never left her. Clearly turned on by the domme way about her now.

After the previous evening’s “occurrence,” Lance wasn’t sure he was ready to confront Gabriella again so soon. He wasn’t afraid of her. Of that, he was certain. However, something about the act she’d put on the whole previous week and how unlike her it really was, was rather unnerving. He didn’t dare fire her. She’d come back at him in some way, and besides, she was damn good for business. The whole thing in his office aside, he’d be a fool to let her go.

All last night and so far all day, every movement of his genitals reminded him of what had happened the night before. Hell of it was, he’d gotten nothing out of it but some bruising in places he’d never had bruises before.

The fact that he’d stayed hard through it all still confused him. He enjoyed when the girls ceded control to him, particularly where his cock and their pussies were involved. However, he couldn’t remember a time when he liked to let somebody else call the shots. That was why he left home at fourteen: he finally got sick of somebody else dictating his life.

When Gabriella stepped in the door for her shift, she was no longer the wide-eyed Pollyanna she’d been when she first walked through the door. Lance had known that was an act, particularly when she didn’t run away in tears after five minutes at the bar.

He was surprised at how quickly the gang switched gears regarding her new attitude. Then again, this wasn’t the kind of crowd that really took to the goody-goody type, so they must have just gone with the show the last week to see what’d happen. He was pretty sure when the goings-on didn’t send her screaming into the night, that they all figured there was more to her than met the eye.

If they had any idea what had occurred the night before, they’d more than likely have a laugh at Lance’s expense, but they also might be a bit more circumspect about accepting her quite so readily.

Even Greg, who knew probably more about the woman than she knew herself, could barely take his eyes off her. She wasn’t the first employee with questionable ties, but Lance didn’t care, as long as she continued to do her job and left any “family” shit for when she wasn’t at work.

Besides, he still planned on getting her to drop her panties for him – if not now, then eventually.

Lance had fucked one of the girls that night, and had a couple of the others put on a little lez show for him. His cock still ached for the bitch behind the bar, regardless of the show she’d put on for him the night before.

It was getting close to last call. When the rest of the crowd and the other employees left, he’d find out whether she meant what she said while she held his cock and balls in her hands.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about what might happen if Gabriella stepped through his office door after everyone else had gone…

She had purred to Greg told him she wouldn't be long just needed to speak with Lance for a moment. A brow raised as he looked worried about that but obeyed and waited. Walking into the office and stood there closing the door behind her.

Well now Lance... What's it going to be? Are you going to be obedient or do I walk out of this office to the waiting obedient cop buddy of yours... Hmmm?

What the hell did she have going with Greg? Suddenly, Lance felt a swell of jealousy. This woman was his, not fucking Greg's. Besides, the way she looked right now, the last thing Lance wanted was for her to leave. He guessed he wasn't much different than any of the other horny fuckers out in the bar. Still, he had little intention of submitting to her quite as readily as the other girls did with him.

"It depends. If I tell you to stay, what would you expect me to do, and what's in it for me?"

Lance's cock strained against the zipper of his jeans. He really wanted to fuck this one. Maybe it was the challenge she presented. He didn't really know for sure, but her resistance was arousing somehow...

Pleased her? Lance was all for that. Hell, he was good at pleasing women. His cock had been doing it for years. He wasn't sure what form this pleasing might take, given the ultimatum that it wouldn't be his cock that got anywhere near her, but he was intrigued by what else - aside from his mouth and fingers - might please a woman that looked like this one did.

Lance's cock strained for release. It had tasted every other pussy that had walked through that door, and it desperately wanted this one.

"Alright. Give 'em last call and get 'em outta here. Send the other girls home. You know where I'll be."

Lance listened as Gabriella stepped back out into the bar and called out, “Greg, pet, could you make sure the staff gets to their cars safely? Thank you. I’ll meet you at my place later.”

Whoa. Her and Greg? That was unexpected. After checking up on most of these people, Greg typically wanted very little to do with them, citing some kind of conflict of interest or some such. And with the facts and intimations regarding this one, it was doubly surprising to hear rumblings of any kind of “relationship” between them.

As with any other employee, though, as long as she kept such things out of the workplace, Lance was willing to let it slide. Still, he felt a twinge of something when he thought of Gabriella and Greg, but he couldn’t put a finger on it, as it was a new sensation for him.

When Gabriella came back into the office (when the fuck had he started thinking of her using her real name, instead of the name he’d chosen for her?) she had transformed once again. She wasn’t the chirpy little twat she’d been when she first stepped foot in his office, but that’d just been an act. Neither, however, was she the super-confident, “your balls are mine” kind of uber-bitch she’d been all night. Lance had a feeling the woman who stood in the door was the true Gabriella, not these other people.

He couldn’t quite tell if it was truly emotionlessness, or simply a tightly reined-in rage that ruled Gabriella at the moment. There had certainly been plenty of intensity the night before, which made him believe this feigned lack of emotion was actually an exercise of great restraint for emotions that had the capability of turning her into an even greater monster than even she cared to let loose.

Regardless, when she finally spoke, her tone held a veiled threat, should he fail to comply.

“Strip and face the wall over there,” she said, pointing to side of the office she wished him to stand. “Leave your belt and tie on the desk.”

The way she spoke rubbed Lance exactly the wrong way. The iron cobra of resistance writhed beneath his skin, and he yearned to show this girl just what he was capable of. Lance had crippled men for less, and for all the steel in this girl’s bearing, it would crumple like the thinnest foil should he bring the power at his disposal against her.

Still, he’d play her game… for now. With a glare, Lance slowly began to disrobe, starting with the tie she’d mentioned.

Dropping it to the desk, his eyes never leaving hers, he began working the buttons on his shirt. Normally, disrobing was not such an exercise in resistance. Then again, any other time, the pussy at the other side of the room was ready and dripping long before he began taking off his clothes.

The shirt eventually was dropped on the desk, right on top of the tie. He had an idea what she intended with his tie and belt, but she obviously expected him to leave them readily accessible, not to have to dig for them.

Next came his shoes. He slipped off one, then made a great show of dropping it on his shirt. The other shoe joined its mate, then his socks.

Lance made a slow, deliberate point of removing his belt. One loop at a time, he pulled the tongue out. It took almost a minute before it hung loose in his hand.

He was surprised that Gabriella just stood and waited. There would surely be some manner of repercussion to his defiance, but she let him go on, and he was certain that each second ticking by simply meant whatever she planned would be intensified by whatever frustration he was helping build in her.

The belt joined the pile. His pants came next. Lance was commando, as he often was, so when his jeans joined his other clothes on the desk, he was totally nude.

His cock stood at full attention, but he knew that, unless he forced himself on her, or she had changed her mind about the two of them fucking, it wasn’t getting any pussy from this one tonight.

For a few seconds, Lance stood with an unbroken stare, telling this one that, for the moment, he’d comply, but he was no one’s bitch.

He then stepped over to the wall Gabriella had indicated and awaited whatever she planned to do with him…

He buried the tie how cute... Typical well just how firmly did she want to break him this first time? Reaching in her inner jacket pocket she withdrew some ornate silver claws and put them on. Walking over to him she ran them down his back. From the base of his neck to the tailbone.

Well now... That wasn't so hard now was it? I knew you could be a good boy... Even if you were a little slow. However such slow behavior does warrant some form of punishment. Guess your belt will have to do.

With that she reached for the belt and snapping it against itself once she then swatted his ass with it.

Lance’s back was to Gabriella, so the only way he knew she was moving up on him was by the sound of her heels clicking on the floor. All of a sudden he felt very vulnerable, being the only nude person in the room. It was both a thrilling and yet, disquieting sensation. Still, he refused to display apprehension or any other manner of fear to this woman, regardless what his body wanted to show.

For a few seconds, she stopped within a foot or so of him. Her hesitation made him wonder if she wasn’t admiring his impressive physique, even for a moment. He then heard her doing something, but it was an unfamiliar sound, something he couldn’t place. Lance could only assume it had to do with what came next, because moments later, a sensation of being clawed tore down the muscles of his back and over the top of his ass. The pressure she used was very precise, because while it hurt, he could tell she hadn’t broken the skin. His initial reaction was a quick, surprised intake of breath, but he soon mastered himself and stood stoically as Gabriella treated his body like a tiger does a tree, clawing it to show all other tigers “this is mine.”

Gabriella started to speak then, while she toyed those claws – they didn’t feel anything like the nails Lance had seen on her fingers – over his skin.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it? I knew you could be a good boy…” she dug the claws into his shoulder a bit harder as she hissed, “even if you were slow.”

She stood behind Lance and he could feel her leather clad body against his as she reached around him, dragging the claws across his chest. “You realize that merits punishment, don’t you?” she breathed quietly, but threateningly, into his ear. “Since you were a child and buried your tie, we’ll make do with your belt.”

Gabriella stepped away and next thing Lance heard was the snap of his belt. He knew the sound. He’d done it many times as a boy, enjoying the sound of the two halves of the leather slapping each other. He also anticipated what that sound foretold, and braced himself for the blow to come.

When it came, it was tremendous. His ass burned immediately, but he inwardly gritted his teeth and refused to give Gabriella the satisfaction of an outward reaction.

The feeling of the belt on his flesh brought Lance back to his childhood. The belt had been his father’s favorite method of exerting authority over his son. Many were the times Lance had felt the bite of leather across his ass, back and thighs. Sometimes the beatings were due to transgressions, but as the years went on, and Lance grew noticeably stronger, they seemed to be reminders of who was the one in charge. Lance was never sure if that reiteration was for his sake, or his father’s.

And his mother was no help. The most she’d do was stand in the doorway watching, sometimes muttering, “Ray, don’t you think the boy’s had enough?” but never doing anything more in her son’s defense.

Alcohol was only occasionally the problem. Lance’s father was simply a very angry man, and it was due to that temper that he seemed perpetually changing jobs. Many was the time there was no money to buy alcohol, and Lance wasn’t sure which beatings were more brutal: the booze-fueled ones, or those brought on by the rage that there was no booze to be had.

The day he walked out on his parents, he was receiving one of those “no alcohol” rages. His mother again stood in the doorway, doing nothing to stop what was happening. It was several minutes into a beating Lance would not soon forget, when something inside him snapped. He was only barely into his teens, but he’d already become a well-built young man, aided by regular workouts at a nearby gym, whose owner let him exercise for sweeping up after hours twice a week.

Even at age fourteen, Lance was far stronger than his father, a fact his father silently acknowledged. That acknowledgement continually prompted these attempts to exert authority in the only way he could think how.

In the middle of his beating, Lance stood up and turned around. The days of tears from such treatment were years behind him. He could still recall the surprise and fear on his father’s face as he stood there, staring back at his tormentor. His father was so paralyzed, he didn’t even move when Lance reached over and took the belt from his hand.

A moment later, realization dawned, and his father began to beg. Lance raised his hand, and it began. Against the protests of the older man, his son delivered a retribution, first with the belt, and finally with bare fists, until his father lay whimpering and bloody on the floor. His mother knelt weeping at the violence she’d witnessed, a violence she’d enabled as much as any of the others she’d stood by and let happen in the past. However much the scene may have horrified her, though, she hadn’t moved from the same spot she’d occupied so many times while witnessing the violence going the other way.

He’d grabbed a jacket to cover his battered body and walked out, not looking back to see if the man on the floor lived or died, and doing nothing to justify his actions to the woman in the doorway.

He never looked back. When he learned his father had turned his violence toward his wife after Lance had gone, and that when she had had enough of that, had put three bullets in him, first he gave a grim laugh. He then raised a glass of the illicit drink he held – he was only seventeen – then downed the rest in one go. It was the only acknowledgement he gave either of his parents after he saw them last, and felt no remorse for his actions.

He’d spent the intervening years building himself up to the man he was presently. Determined not to be victimized ever again, he’d taken to victimizing others, in particular, those who were subordinate to him. No one else knew his true origin. He had no desire to receive pity from anyone, for he felt none for himself.

The slap of the belt dredged up those memories, and while the situation now was quite different than then, he was having a difficult time separating the two. He knew the woman wielding the belt was not his father, but his emotions were currently having difficulty separating past from present. Inside him bellowed outrage at the blow, wanted to strip the weapon from her hand and destroy her just as he’d destroyed his own father so many years ago. However, he knew he couldn’t, shouldn’t do such a thing. It was the only thing that kept him from turning and simply taking from this woman exactly what he’d intended to get from her only the night before.

She could beat him bloody in such a manner, and she’d get little more than a grunt from him. A single swat to the ass was nothing.

To Gabriella’s contemptuous question, he merely responded with the same stony silence that he gave the belt…